


The Diary of Sir Guy of Gisborne - season 2

by PepperF



Series: Guy's Diary [2]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy's Diary - season 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

28th January, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

I have decided to restart my diary, as I am no longer concerned with foolish emotional attachments and have larger issues at stake, viz. Operation Shah-Mat (a.k.a. Kill The King). I am part of a great and daring thing. Politics are my ambition, not women. I do not need love when I have power. 

Over the winter, the Sheriff has been working, making contacts, building alliances, gaining trust or finding leverage. He has built up a network he calls the Black Knights, all working towards a common goal: the death of King Richard, and Prince John on the throne. I have been at his right hand through it all, eager to learn everything – every underhand deal, every smiling lie. He is unstoppable. With the Sheriff at his back, Prince John will become king. And I will be with them. The name of Gisborne will once again be great.

In return for the energy of his support, the Sheriff has extracted a terrible promise from Prince John: if he dies an unnatural death, Nottingham shall be razed, and all the people in it – men, women and children – hanged. This fate hangs over the people and no one knows it – Hood will be told if it becomes necessary to keep him in check. 

Hood has been quieter over the winter, but is returning to full strength now, thieving and robbing and harrying my men. But the Sheriff has plans for him, too – he has ordered an ingenious strongroom built, replete with many traps. If Hood tries to break in, it will defeat him – with luck, it may even kill him. The Sheriff has also recruited a smith, a French Moor called Geff who claims to have the secret to armour that is lightweight and yet so strong that an arrow will not pierce it. I remain sceptical, but have allowed the man to work in Locksley (in Lambert's old workshop). We will see what he produces.

All this should be sufficient to keep my mind from THAT WOMAN.

\---

29th January, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Burned down Marian's home today. I am perhaps not as detached as I thought.

My emotions cannot be trusted around her. I thought I had managed to put her behind me, but whenever I see her, she puts me in such a passion of rage that I cannot think straight. I feel as though my brain were being squeezed out by all the fury contained within my skull. I want to destroy everything that makes her happy – I want to have her in my power – I want her to cry out to me for mercy – I want her to beg, to fall on her knees to me – to realise what she has lost, the man she might have married. I want to see her face when Prince John comes into power, and she understands the ruination she has brought upon herself and her foolish father. She will turn to me then for help, but I will cast her aside – I will not bend.

New resolution: FROM TODAY, I feel nothing re. Marian.

She and her father are under house arrest at the castle, on the Sheriff's orders. I look forward to testing my resolve.

\---

30th January, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Spending much of my time at the castle now. I will see Marian every day. That way I can make it clear to her that I HAVE NO INTEREST IN HER.

The Night Watchman continues to haunt and frustrate me – my blow did not end him, the irksome (but strangely shapely) do-gooder. The Sheriff's sister arrived today and swiftly caught Hood, and had him strung up over a pit of snakes – but the Night Watchman caused a distraction, allowing Hood to escape once more. Someday I will unmask him, and see him hanged side-by-side with Robin Hood. The Sheriff will set their heads on twin spikes before the gate. 

Hood aimed to kill the Sheriff during the escape, and had to be warned of the fate of Nottingham, should he do so. That should blunt his claws.

I am putting my education from the Sheriff to good use. I have turned one of Hood's own men into my spy – Allan-A-Dale. We caught him at a tavern in town and first I had him tortured, and then told him that Hood had been and gone, and would not rescue him. Then I played on his weakness – I know he is a gambler, a trickster, he wants money for himself and not for Hood's precious peasants. I said I only wished for peace – a detente with Hood. I told him that he would be doing us both a favour, and profiting from it, into the bargain.

He is mine now, bought and paid for. He will report Hood's movements to me, and one day soon he will help me – all unknowingly – to bring down the whole gang. 

I was surprised to see the Sheriff so affected by his sister's death (she died during the escape, bitten by her own snakes). I had thought he liked no woman, he always refers to them as 'lepers'. I remembered my own sister, Isabella – I have not seen her since she married Thornton. Sixteen years! We were fond of each other as children, I recall, but I have not thought of her more than a handful of times since. I would not be sorry to see her again.

\---

15th February, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Hood continues to thieve with great enthusiasm and luck, but we have had one victory: the Sheriff's strongroom has defeated him. He made an attempt tonight, but was driven back. The room is impossible to enter. This is good. On the other hand, it means that someone informed Hood of the strongroom's existence. I shall have to kill the builders tomorrow.

I expect Hood will try again. We must see what we can do to thwart him a second time. It will not be so easy, now that he is prepared – but the room itself is truly ingenious. The traps reset constantly so that you never know when you will make a misstep. I am almost afraid to enter it, even with the system shut off – at every step, I fear I will be decapitated, or shot full of arrows, or doused in boiling lead!

The Sheriff has a mysterious guest arriving tomorrow, and has been making many alterations to the Great Hall on his behalf, so that it begins to resemble a gambling den. No doubt he will confide his plans to me soon.

Much noisesome smoke and clamour comes from Lambert's old workshop these days. Geff loves his work, it seems. He certainly wakes v. early to start it.

\---

16th February, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

I am glad that the Sheriff's guest, Count Frederick, has gone. I could not stand to see him fawning over Marian like that – and she returning his advances! He was so preening and affected and foreign – and SHORT! The Sheriff ordered Marian to pander to the Count's every whim, and she fulfilled the role admirably. She is so practiced in deceit. I have never seen her dress so provocatively – I cannot stop thinking of it and how much it disgusted me.

Unfortunately, Hood broke into the strongroom again – I almost want to say 'naturally'; it has come to seem almost inevitable – and stole the money the Sheriff intended to share between the Black Knights, including all that we had won from the Count with the Sheriff's loaded dice.

It makes me sick to think of those dice, and how Marian's perfect lips smiled and simpered and blew gently on them to bless them with luck. The Count was no taller than her – in his heels!

The promises of land will have to be enough to appease the Black Knights, now the money is gone. They are already committed.

I cannot believe she allowed him to kiss her like that! She never let me kiss her, not even when we were betrothed! Not once!


	2. Chapter 2

25th February, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Slept badly; dreamed of weddings.

I have been thinking about the Gisborne name, of late. Once I have gained wealth and status, I must continue my line – I must marry, and produce an heir. But the idea of finding a wife and starting a family, all the while knowing that it is a mere shade of what I once hoped to share with Marian... I cannot bear to think on it.

Perhaps I could find the child that Annie bore me – I forget his name. If he survives infancy and is sturdy, that might solve the problem.

Marian does not appear to be pining for the Count. She seemed for a moment even to have forgotten his name when I mentioned him today (apparently he is fomenting some kind of Hood-like unrest in his native land – goodness knows what inspired him). She is so fickle in her affections. I believed once that she could care for me, but I must remember that the smile in her eyes is as false as the Sheriff's diamond tooth.

\---

1st March, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

The new armour is ready at last. I will be trying it on later this evening.

I caught some boys spying when we tested the armour earlier today. I decided they would be more use put to work in the mine than dead. The Sheriff felt I was being too compassionate – I think I was merely being practical. Either way, Hood somehow found out, and tried to steal them back, but apparently he has a pack of them trailing him around, for he left another one behind. The boy is currently chained in my guardroom. Unfortunately, Hood also stole some of the stones that are important (I do not understand exactly how) in the production of the armour. We are in a stand-off with Hood, and will exchange stones for boy at first light tomorrow.

Ah, my man is here with the armour. 

LATER:- As I was trying it on, Marian came to visit. She spoke of reconciliation between us, trying to play on my feelings for her, not realising that they are now dead. It was all to get me to release her and her father from house arrest, of course – I saw through her deception. I have not the power to grant that, even had I wanted – the Sheriff would never agree.

Still, I would have prolonged our interview. It is an eternity since she last spoke to me so agreeably. And she did not seem repulsed by me, as she has before – she offered me her hand in friendship, despite that it was late and I was half undressed. She seemed distracted – flustered. Do I dare believe that I still have the power to stir her?

Fortunately for my sanity, it was a busy night for visitors! Allan arrived, in the guise of a messenger from the Sheriff (Hood's scheme to regain the boy, thwarted because Allan is now loyal to me). I sent him back with a few new bruises for authenticity. I was feeling a little frustrated – cannot think why.

\---

2nd March, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

I am singed and soaked and my lungs ache, but unharmed – thanks to Marian. Hood came to the exchange and swapped boy for stones. I attacked in full armour – it's curst difficult to wear! – to take them back, but he covered me in pitch and set me alight. I would have been cooked had I not thrown myself into the wash-tank, where Hood subsequently caught me. I tried to struggle, but although the armour was indeed as light as promised, it still would not allow me the proper use of my arms and legs. Hood held me under the water to ransom me for the stones, and I came close to drowning. In a wash-tank!

But Marian saved my life, and I do not know how to feel about that. She forced the Sheriff to give up the stones, when he would have seen Hood drown me without a qualm. The Sheriff is furious, and has thrown her father into the dungeon – the old man is clearly unwell, and may not survive this latest indignity. And yet, I still cannot be sure whether she did it for me or for Hood.

She says it was for me – the fact that Hood got what he wanted was incidental. And I am grateful for her intervention. Certainly the Sheriff cannot be trusted (not that I thought he could). But can I trust her? 

I do not know. I do not know.

I do know that the armour is worthless, however, and that I am glad the smith has gone. For all that they will not stop arrows, I prefer my leathers.

\---

12th March, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

I sleep badly at the castle. The walls are oppressive and give me dark dreams, and I cannot shake the feeling when I awake. Of late, I often dream that I am held underwater by relentless hands, in a grip I cannot break. Sometimes the hands belong to Hood, sometimes the Sheriff – sometimes Marian. I wake up gasping for breath, and dare not sleep again. Someday I will take payment from Hood for every wakeful moment.

The Sheriff has a new pet, a madman who calls himself a "scientist", who has invented a new kind of poison, for which there is no antidote (or so he claims). He will be testing it on the people tonight, distributing poisoned food in the guise of the Night Watchman. Tomorrow, the Sheriff will announce that it is the pestilence. If it goes wrong and the poison is detected, we can always blame the Night Watchman for the deed. 

Am not clear as to why exactly the entirety of Pitt Street must be poisoned in order to test this new potion, but no doubt the Sheriff has his reasons. 

\---

13th March, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

I do my best for Marian, even going against the Sheriff to ensure that her father – still in the dungeons – is fed. And yet still she shuns me. Why can she never see that I mean only the best for her? Is she still upset that I burned down her home?

The Sheriff's poison plan went awry, thanks to Hood. It is hard to feel surprised. The outlaws knew of an antidote, and saved their precious poor. The Sheriff's scientist is dead, fallen from a window in the castle, and the Sheriff himself is recovering from being poisoned (the outlaws will not let the Sheriff die if it means the death of everyone else in Nottingham).

However, my own plans are going well – Allan is bleeding his master's secrets, drop by drop. Today he showed me a letter that was due to go to King Richard, exposing the Black Knights and Operation Shah-Mat. He told me of the courier, and when I might catch him. Naively, he supposed that I would simply arrest the courier; no doubt he will be disappointed to hear that the man is dead. But this puts him all the more under my power – Hood will blame him, should his part in the deception ever be uncovered.


	3. Chapter 3

26th March, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Met with Allan this evening (wore a different cloak so I would not be known – shame I must get rid of it, it is FABULOUS). He has given me another useful titbit: the outlaws are somehow aware that Henry of Lewes will be arriving tomorrow. Henry comes to tell us where and when the King will land when he returns to England. We cannot afford this message to go astray, so Henry will come by another route.

Hood seems to have informants everywhere, but at last we begin to get ahead of him, thanks to my scheme with Allan. The more I manipulate him, manoeuvring him into my power, the more I can see how the Sheriff has done the same to me. It is... educational.

Headache today. Too much time spent in smoky inns, I expect.

\---

27th March, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Marian is dangerously beguiling. When she smiles at me, I would grant almost any request she makes – and I suspect she knows this. Today she persuaded me to let her roam free for a time. I ordered her to remain at the castle – of course, she did not. 

I would have been angry, but her interest seemed to be in me. She tried to deny it, but I spied her in the market, watching me from behind a particularly large marrow. I stopped in to the inn (to leave some money for Allan, in repayment for his information on Henry), and then pretended to return to the castle – ducking around a corner and catching Marian as she followed. I wrung the confession from her that she merely wished to spend time with me.

I would like to believe that she had no other motive. I cannot guess at what else it could have been. But she is a minx, there is no telling what scheme she might be about. I must keep a close eye on her. That at least is no hardship!

Ducked a witch in Locksley pond today. Nonsense, of course, but the Sheriff needed an excuse to torture Goodwife Matilda, a wisewoman who is in league with Hood. Henry of Lewes arrived sick, and she was brought in to tend him after Blight and his leeches failed (no surprise there!). Instead, she drugged him, and we wanted the cure. But instead, she managed to disappear from her bindings. The peasants thought it was magic, and I must admit, even I was shaken for a moment! But then Henry was stolen a moment later, and we realised that it was Hood's doing. In all the confusion, they escaped. We found Henry's body, some time later. So much for Hood's pacifism.

Suffering from headache greatly still, along with sensitivity to light and an ache in my bones. The Spring air does not agree with me. Blight recommends oil of leeches. I prefer to suffer.

\---

28th March, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Beginning to wonder if the peasants aren't right about witches, after all. The guards tell me that they found the Sheriff wandering about the halls last night, muttering to himself about Hood. They said he did not seem to recognise them, and that he seemed to think he was in Sherwood. He startled when one of them finally dared take him by the arm, and was greatly confused and angry. The guards think he is possessed by an evil spirit. I daresay he was only sleepwalking, but a part of me wonders.

I myself have not been feeling right since Matilda cursed us. I ache throughout my body, I shiver as though chilled to the bone, my throat is sore, and I have just now noticed strange bumps upon the inside of my mouth.

I must see a priest, and have him shrive me. But that means going to confession, and I have not been since I was a boy – the Sheriff is not a believer, and did not encourage church attendance beyond the minimum necessary. I cannot confess all my sins – I would not have the time! But how else can I rid myself of this curse? Blight will only prescribe a course of leeches, as he does for every ailment from a cold to a broken leg. I must find some other cure. I will sleep. Perhaps I will feel well again tomorrow.

\---

29th March, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

I ache like the Devil is chewing my bones, and the rash is worse – it has spread down my face and neck, and covers my torso, arms and legs – even my ears itch. I am tormented by it! Even in sleep I have no relief. I have scratched until I am bloody, but it will not stop! I just want it to stop!

\---

Friday

Forgive me father for I have sinnd. it is it is many yrs synce my last confession. I have murtrd – i do not want to think ont. just make me wel! matilda i am sory

the snakes

h e l p m e

I 

cannot


	4. Chapter 4

5th April, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

The sickness has broken. I am recovering, thank the Lord.

I am still weak, and curst hungry. Yesterday, I had not the energy to eat more than a mouthful before I fell asleep again. Today I am well enough to hold a quill and eat half a bowl of soup, although even that was almost too much excitement. But every time I wake again, I have improved.

My fever dreams were dark and confusing. I thought I saw Marian with a mask across her mouth – and then I thought it was the Night Watchman, come to kill me – but he placed a cool cloth across my brow, and I was so unmanned by relief that I wept. I am glad they were just dreams!

A maidservant and a guard were set to tend me. The guard was a clumsy oaf, but the girl at least had the sense to realise it was the measles, and not a curse (despite what I may have babbled in my delirium). She knew that my fever must be cooled if I were to survive, and ordered me to be placed into a cold bath, whereupon I became quiet and calm, and fell into a natural sleep. I remember nothing of it – this is all on the guard's report. I wanted to seek out the girl to thank her, once I was well enough, but the idiot guard does not know her name. I am forever in her debt.

I must get better quickly; the Sheriff demands my return. The Black Knights are coming.

\---

12th April, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

The Black Knights are to sign a Pact tomorrow. The Sheriff has had it drawn up, and killed the scribe for good measure. This will bind us to our endeavours. It is a step closer to the power I crave. 

The Knights have been arriving all day. I did not like how Lord Winchester's eyes rested on Marian during supper – he watches her with the attentiveness of an owl eyeing a mouse. If he tries to touch her, I will cut off his greedy hand, the Pact be damned. 

The Sheriff is throwing a party tomorrow to celebrate the signing, and requires Marian's presence. This has given me the opportunity to atone for some of my past misdeeds by buying her some dresses. I perhaps went a little overboard in my purchasing. I do not know about clothing for women. I do not think she would agree to black leather. Although she would look... distracting.

Very distracting.

Yes.

Allan A-Dale has been uncovered by the outlaws, so I lose my spy in their camp. A great shame. He asks for employment, and I must admit he is very capable – he overpowered my guards with ease. I will consider it. 

I wonder if Marian... No.

\---

13th April, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

There are many deaths that I regret – deaths that I have dealt or caused, murders that haunt my soul, weighing it down with heavy chains – deaths that I will repay in pain and suffering in the hereafter. I do not believe the murder of that treacherous whoreson Harold, Lord of Winchester, will be amongst them.

For a time, I doubted the Sheriff. I thought he would truly go through with Winchester's additional demands: Sussex, part of Surrey, and Marian. Marian! I would have run him through right there and then, but the Sheriff plays a long game. He went along with it, despite my anguish - and it was anguish, to think that Marian would be handed over to that man. I tried to help her to escape, but the Sheriff stopped me. I have never been so torn apart, so full of doubt. I had to take her to his chambers, in chains...!

But my loyalty to the Sheriff has been rewarded. He saw a way through that I did not. He waited for Winchester to sign the Pact, and then we went after him – just the Sheriff and I, and Allan. I killed him – the other lords will never know it was us – and freed Marian. I have never felt less remorse at sinking my dagger into a man. I have never felt so content as I was on that horse afterwards, following the Sheriff, with Marian riding pillion behind me.

Marian asked me earlier why I serve the Sheriff so devotedly. I told her that it was because I have no one – and in part, that is true. But it is not the whole truth. No one but the Sheriff can bring me everything I desire. No one else has a mind so devious. I have never seen it so clearly as today.

And I can lie to myself no longer: my feelings towards Marian must have been obvious to all, today. No one, least of all the Sheriff, is fooled. I have tried to fight it, but once more I must admit that I love her, more than ever before. I wish I did not. I believe it can only end in misery.

\---

26th April, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

The Sheriff has agreed that I can take Allan on as my man, so long as he proves his loyalty. Tomorrow, he will take us through all the entrances and exits to the castle that the outlaws have used, and we will secure them all.

With Allan, I believe we stand a chance to win. Already he has been of use: he suggested that Hood would try for the strongroom again, and persuaded the Sheriff to move all the money. His suggestion for a new storage place is insane – to put all the gold in a birdcage, hung high outside for all to see! – but I am starting to think that insane plans are the only ones that will work against Hood. And he was correct: the outlaws broke in tonight. Their only reward was a brisk run from the dogs.

It was happenstance that brought Allan to me, but I am beginning to think my luck was unusually good that day. If Allan could just learn to curb his insolent – if amusing – tongue, and stop calling me 'Giz' in front of the Sheriff, he would be the perfect aide.

\---

27th April, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Why can I never do anything right, when it comes to Marian? I try to explain myself, but she does not listen. I try to tell her of my feelings, of the side to me that loves soft things, like cats and playing the lute, but she does not want to hear. I try to offer comfort, but somehow I manage to offend her.

Sir Edward, her father, is dead. Not in the dungeons, as I confess I had expected, but at the point of a dagger, abetting Robin Hood. I think he would have preferred that. Marian was distraught. I have never seen her so wild. 

She was also guilty of helping him to escape the dungeon. I know, because her dagger was found in the breast of Sir Edward's jailor. I took it to Marian, not the Sheriff. For all my loyalty, I could not betray her in her time of grief. I tried to comfort her, but I fear my emotions got the better of me as I held her close. I foolishly tried to kiss her. She repulsed my advances, of course – I should have known it was not the right moment. My curst love for her has no sense of timing!

She has taken my advice and gone, before her treachery is discovered. I had not realised, these months, how I was becoming accustomed to her presence. Now, the castle has never seemed emptier.


	5. Chapter 5

7th May, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Sometimes, I think the Sheriff's plans are over-complicated. This latest one, for example: what need have we of false attacks on Clun so that the Sheriff's hired Crusader-assassin can look heroic, in order to infiltrate Hood's gang? We lost several men in the attack – good men, killed by one who is supposedly our ally. Would not all this time and manpower be better spent on a straightforward ambush?

And it is not because I am jealous. Yes, I hate Crusaders, with their sunbleached hair and chiselled good looks and you-wouldn't-understand-you-weren't-in-the-Holy-Land attitude. I hate how the Sheriff listens to this man, just because he has an implacable, sand-scoured gaze and a stupid red cross on his tunic (all the better to make himself a target!). But I am not jealous. I just think the Sheriff should listen to his closest advisors, his loyal lieutenants, rather than some fresh-from-the-desert knight of unproven merit.

I miss Marian. She would have understood the folly of such a scheme. Well, perhaps she would have taken issue with the attack on Clun most of all – but at least she would have disapproved. The Sheriff enjoys mocking me about Marian's absence. I believe he thinks she has run off to the woods with Hood. He does not understand our relationship – that I told her to go. Of course, he cannot be told of Marian's complicity in the jailor's death. But still, I wish he would not talk so.

Perhaps I will send Allan to look for her. Yes, that is a plan. He can be trusted to keep my secrets.

\---

8th May, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary, 

A day of wonder. Marian kissed me! It was the most perfect thing that has EVER HAPPENED. I feel like singing from the ramparts!

The Crusader's plan failed – I could have forseen that. He turned to Hood's side. These holier than thou Holy Land veterans always stick together.

But Marian kissed me. 

Allan tells me he tracked her down to Ripley Convent. She returned to the castle to talk to me (running into the Crusader, bearing Hood's supposedly dead body – and she was not at all interested! Hood's death was of no import to her!). She came to ask me to leave her alone for a time. I could not help it – I professed my love for her again. She told me she was grieving. She did not take to my suggestion that creating new life – marrying me and having my child – would help to assuage her grief. I should have mentioned my idea that we could name it after her father. Edward, or... Edwardina? I would not mind.

But then, just as I was turning to leave, she pulled me back and kissed me! 

In all that, somehow I missed the fight with Hood. But I do not care, for Marian kissed me. 

She left for the convent again, despite that I forbade her. I will write her a letter, and send it via Allan. I know! I will invite her to my birthday party. If she has difficulty in leaving the convent, she has but to get a message to me, and I will be outside her window with a ladder.

\---

19th May, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

I could not have imagined a more perfect birthday present: Marian has returned to Nottingham Castle. She has returned, and Hood has proven that he does not care for her – worse, that he would use her as a hostage, threatening her life to ensure his own safety. I believe that she was hurt by Hood's betrayal – they were once betrothed, after all – but in time, she must come to see that she can depend on me, that no one else loves her as I do. No one else will make her as happy as I could.

I do not care that, once again, a party that I arranged has been ruined (this time by an insolent Fool, a messenger from the King, and the Sheriff's tantrums). Why should I care for parties when, high up in a tree, amongst smoke and confusion, I have held Marian in my arms? When for a second time I have played hero for her, and she has ridden pillion behind me back to the castle? Nothing would make me happier if I could play her hero for the rest of my days. I would prefer it if she did not require rescuing on quite such a regular basis, though – it is v. hard on my nerves.

She says that Hood persuaded her away from the convent with talk of a child in peril, a rescue that needed a woman's gentle hands – and of course her soft heart was touched. He is a villain! Of course he was using her to get to me. He has uncovered my weakness – that I still love her, despite everything. I am glad she is back at the castle where I can properly protect her.

Hood tried to get a message to King Richard with a pigeon, but the Sheriff brought it down with his falcon. I will take it as a sign: someday we will defeat Hood, once and for all.

\---

6th June, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

I am not sure how to write about today. I am exhausted. 

I will begin with the facts: the Sheriff went missing this morning. He sleepwalked to the stables, mounted a horse, and rode into Sherwood, believing himself in pursuit of Hood. He certainly has a vivid imagination, but I wish for all our sakes that he had curbed it.

I discovered him missing in the morning. I also discovered Sir Jasper waiting in his chambers. Apparently, as part of the agreement with Prince John, the Sheriff has been sending back proof every other Thursday (by way of his seal) of his continued well-being. Sir Jasper would not accept my assurances that the Sheriff was well, and gave me until sundown to produce him, or else Nottingham would be razed.

I was, I confess, frantic. Had Hood done something to harm him, that would be different – but to have the Sheriff himself simply disappear... We searched the castle and the city, but he was nowhere to be found. I sent all the men out to search the surrounding towns and villages.

And then, the bright part of my day: Marian. I asked her to leave, to go to safety, but she would not. My heart leapt at this, and renewed my determination: I would find the Sheriff, save Nottingham, and prove myself worthy of Marian's devotion. I went along with her suggestion that we ask Hood to help, despite my hatred for the man. She was right: his influence outside of Nottingham is far-reaching, and he could search the forest whilst my men searched the villages.

Sir Jasper offered me a deal: I was to be allowed to leave, along with any family. But of course I have no family – and I would not be permitted to take Marian, unless she was my wife. I had until sundown... Of course I asked her, and of course she refused. She was not at the point that she would accept for my own sake, and she was not afraid to share Nottingham's fate. Never will I be allowed to ask her in my own time, it seems. It must always be "marry me or die".

I left the city at sundown... no, I am too tired to write more now. It has been a very long, very strange day.

\---

7th June, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Today I did not propose to Marian. One would not think that was noteworthy, but sometimes it feels as though I ask her every other day. But to continue my story of the siege of Nottingham...

I left the city at sundown. Even as I rode towards the lines of soldiers, I had not made up my mind. But as I confronted Sir Jasper, it became clear: if I were to leave, all I could look forward to would be the cold comfort of survival. I would lose Marian forever – and with her, any hope of true happiness. So I refused Sir Jasper's deal, and raced back to defend the city by her side. There was no hope: all the soldiers were out searching the villages, leaving only the townsfolk to man the defences. I knew I would die. And yet I did not feel regret.

As we waited for the attack to break about our ears, she took my hand. I again asked her to marry me, to snatch one last moment of freedom before we were extinguished forever. But I never learnt her answer, for at that moment, I heard the Sheriff's voice. Robin had found him! The Sheriff sent Sir Jasper packing, and the city was safe once more. I have never been more relieved.

The people have been treating me as though I were some kind of hero. Some of them even thanked me for standing with them yesterday, for ordering the city's defence. But it is Marian's expression that stays ever before me. She looked at me as though I were a good man; a man she was proud to know. I will never forget that. I want to know what her answer would have been to my final proposal – but that moment of accord between us is fragile, too new and too precious to me – I dare not put it to the test.

I feel like a stranger when I walk around and people smile at me. It will not last, and I am almost tempted to do something to provoke their hatred again, just to end this sensation of waiting. But for today, I have kept my peace.


	6. Chapter 6

20th June, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

So the truth is revealed at last: Marian is the Night Watchman. I should have guessed. In retrospect, the signs were obvious. And yesterday, I caught her as she tried to steal food for the displaced peasants of Locksley.

I thought I would die. In that moment, I truly felt what it is to be betrayed. When she left me at the altar, I thought that my heart had died, burned away by her perfidy. It was nothing compared to this. Fool that I am, I had begun to hope once more that she might be mine!

I could not believe it until I saw the vicious wound I had inflicted upon him – upon _her_ – last year – God, shortly before our wedding – that must have been her mysterious injury! How could I have been so BLIND?

I have locked her in her room and sent word to the Sheriff (who is out pursuing Hood and treasure maps), to let him know we have captured the Night Watchman. I found I could not write the line, 'and it is Marian', but it does not matter. When he returns, she will be executed.

Why does she do this to me? Why does she put me through this agony? Every time I think that this is it, that I cannot feel any worse, she finds another way to hurt me! Has she ever really cared for me, or has everything been a lie?

She tells me I never really knew her, that she was following her heart, defending her precious people against the Sheriff – that the real Marian is the woman I know and the Night Watchman combined. There are times when I could gladly put the whole of Nottingham to the sword because she loves them and not me. Never me. Why does she never love me, when time and again I lay my heart at her feet?

If Marian dies, I will die too. Not straight away, but I cannot live long without her. I feel as though I have always known this. She will be the death of me.

\---

21st June, in this the year of our Lord 1193

Dear Diary,

Tonight is the Summer solstice. From my window in the castle, I can see bonfires lit in the surrounding villages. Tonight, many a young man and woman will leap through the flames to bless their union. And, to my surprise, I am at peace (unlike the Sheriff, whose "treasure" turned out to be Queen Eleanor. The encounter did not go well: with Hood's assistance, she escaped, and has gone to warn the King of our assassination plans).

Marian is safe. I concealed it all from the Sheriff, and – with Allan's adroit help – staged the "Night Watchman's" escape. The Sheriff believes I am incompetent, and I believe he came close to ordering my own execution. He will kill me if I let him down again, at this critical stage in our plans. But it was worth the risk, because Marian did not die today.

I do not know why I did it. She will never marry me, and I am a fool to think otherwise (no doubt I will forget this clarity within the hour!). She did not even ask for my help. In fact, she demanded that her death come from me, if I truly felt myself betrayed. Perhaps that is it: I am too much a coward to be the hand that kills her.

She did not know my plan in advance – I had not time to tell her. She walked to the executioner's block with the calm of a martyr, and was as astonished as the Sheriff when the "Night Watchman" appeared. She would have gone to her death proudly. I wish I had a fraction of her strength!

Afterwards, when it was all over, she kissed my cheek and smiled warmly at me. She sees good in me that I do not think exists, and her belief makes me a better man. It was more than my heart could bear, and so I left her there, thinking well of me.

Long may it last.

\---

2nd July, in this the year of our Lord 1193,   
At _The Swan Inn_ , Oxford

Dear Diary,

Marian has betrayed me again.

I am so weary of this game. Every time I think I have found my feet...!

With all Hood's attempts to warn the King, we had to change our plans. Richard would be expecting an assassination attempt when he landed in England – so we are travelling to the Holy Land. Unfortunately, before we set out, Marian divined our plans, and attempted to kill the Sheriff – and was caught. I had no choice but to tell him everything. He was, of course, furious.

The Sheriff decided that we would take her with us. She is lucky that he did not simply execute her on the spot! He had every right. I do not understand why she courts danger like this – has she not done enough already? She promised me that her career as the Night Watchman was over!

Still, hopefully Hood is dead by now. The Sheriff received warning that it was his birthday – how sweet – and that the outlaws were planning a celebration in a barn in Locksley. Right under my very nose. His impudence is duly rewarded: the Sheriff has sent an army of 100 mercenaries after him, and they have him and his gang surrounded. Unfortunately, he has some of Lambert's black powder (I begin to think Lambert's angry ghost is seeking vengeance on me and the Sheriff) – we do not know how much, but I do not believe it can be a lot. He cannot hold out forever.

The Sheriff told Marian that Hood is dead. I saw her stricken expression. How much of her disinterest in him has been an act? I had trusted her about that – I had thought that, even though she did not love me, at least she did not love Hood either. But now I doubt. I asked Allan, but he said it did not matter now. That is no answer at all.

I just wish someone would be honest with me!

\---

12th July, in this the year of our Lord 1193  
At _The Lamb and Flag_ , Portsmouth

Dear Diary,

Allan left us shortly after my last entry. He returned to help Hood, no doubt. I am disappointed in him – I had thought that at least he was loyal to me, that we shared an outlook. I am a fool. 

Marian sulks and will not speak. The Sheriff got bored of needling her, and is now strolling through the port while we wait to board the ship. He seems to enjoy the sea air, and has been in mischievous spirits. Part of me hopes he will be violently seasick and give us all a rest.

So now I sit here, awaiting the Sheriff's return, guarding Marian like a faithful dog. But I am a free man, and I believe I shall go out. Besides, we took Marian along without stopping to pack any of her possessions – I will see if I can purchase some clothing for her.

\---

18th July, in this the year of our Lord 1193  
Aboard _La Seynte Marie_

Dear Diary,

We will be landing in Le Havre tomorrow or the next day, depending on wind and tides. I will be ordering the journey to Marseille, as the Sheriff's French is remarkably poor for a man of his position. I, of course, lived in France for some time. They are memories I would rather not relive, so I am thankful that neither the Sheriff nor Marian has asked (although it would hurt neither of them to take an interest).

I wonder if I shall feel homesick for Locksley, this time. I think probably not. When I was a child, the English peasants considered me French, because of my mother – despite the fact that we came to Locksley when I was but an infant, and my sister was born there. But when I was exiled to France, I discovered that I was not French at all: I could barely speak the language, I distrusted the food, and I did not understand the people. I was more English than French – and equally unwelcome in both countries. I have been settled back in Locksley for four years now, but I have never truly felt _at home_ there. 

Once we have done this thing, Prince John will give me wealth and lands, and then I will be a man worthy of any woman's affections. If I had a wife and family, they would create a home for me. Sometimes I think I will never achieve that dream.

The journey is already wearisome. The last time I travelled this route, I was alone, and thought that companions would have been pleasant. How little did I know! The Sheriff has no one to exercise his malice on but myself, Marian, and the sailors, and we are all heartily sick of him. Marian is not much better, for she constantly rises to the Sheriff's provocation. They argue like cat and dog. If I do not end up murdering one or both of them, it will be a miracle!


	7. Chapter 7

31st July, in this the year of our Lord 1193  
Poitou, France

Dear Diary,

Passed through Poitou today. It has not changed. The memories assault me from every side, reminding me of the misery of that first arrival, the hellish five years with my cousins, the relief when I finally found a place and could return to England. I wonder if Cousin Jean still lives, or if someone finally plunged a knife through his rotten heart.

I killed my first man here. Well, my first except for... but I was a child then, it was a mistake; I did not mean to set the fire. Their deaths were not my fault.

It was here that I last saw my sister. I wonder how she and Thornton are faring. She was reluctant at the betrothal, I remember, but it was for the best. She was so young, then – no doubt she understands better now the realities of the world. He was wealthy; as an orphan with no dowry, she could not have hoped for a better match. I was astounded that he was so eager to take her – and relieved that I no longer had the burden of caring for her, I admit. Perhaps he was not the best of men, but we are all of us doomed to some disappointment in life.

We passed the stables, and I swear my heart skipped a beat. I thought for a second I saw Angelique's golden hair – but it was just straw. How appropriate; she was only ever fool's gold, one of many attempts by Life to teach me that time and again I would be let down by a woman, my hopes and dreams raised only to be dashed once more.

The coach did not stop, and I let Poitou pass without a word. I pray I never see it again.

\---

20th August, in this the year of our Lord 1193  
Aboard the _Cog John_

Dear Diary,

I am restless. I am not used to this much inactivity – except for the last time I took this journey, of course, which seems like a lifetime ago. Even then, I do not remember feeling this – this itch of awareness beneath my skin. Back then, I was as thoughtlessly content as any animal. I do not know why, but I can no longer switch off the critical part of my mind.

There is little enough to do on board ship. It is infernally hot during the day, but the temperature plummets at night – the sea and the desert have that in common. The distant horizon draws my attention constantly, until I cannot string two thoughts together. The only distraction is the sailors. They sing shanties as they work, most of which made Marian blush at first. Now I believe we have both learnt them all. I am beginning to burn brown as any peasant, as is Marian (it looks well on her, of course). 

Marian likes to walk on deck at night. She stands at the rail, looking out to sea, and sometimes she seems to welcome my company, sometimes not. I asked her once if she mourns Hood. She looked at me with those huge eyes, and said merely, "Why should I?", and left me standing there. I do not know what she meant – I wonder if she believes that he is still alive, but I am too much a coward to ask.

The Sheriff mostly stays below decks in his luxuriously-appointed cabin. Sometimes he is solitary for days on end, and sometimes he sends for me, and talks to me for hours at a time. I am amazed at the breadth and elasticity of his mind. I am almost frightened by the depth of his cynicism. I find I cannot speak to Marian afterwards – I have to spend time alone before I am fit to see anyone. He makes me see things so differently. He is right about so many things, his arguments make perfect sense, but I don't want... I am afraid to believe him. I am afraid of the world he presents.

I wish I had brought my lute to practice on. Perhaps tomorrow I will ask the sailors to teach me how to climb as they do, to the topmast. Too much time to think will drive me insane!

\---

31st August, in this the year of our Lord 1193  
Aboard the _Grace de Dew_

Dear Diary,

Yesterday we stopped in Messina, Italy, to change ship. I should like to have stayed a while longer; it was an interesting port, full of bustling trade from all around the Mediterranean. But our ship to the Holy Land was ready to depart on the next tide.

Marian and I have reached an unspoken truce. She seems resigned to accompanying us – although whether it is truly resignation, or whether she has a plan in mind to stop us when we get there, I do not know nor wish to ask. The journey is too long to be constantly at war.

I escorted her to buy a few more items of clothing whilst we were in the port, including a most attractive Moorish dress that should be more appropriate for the hot weather. We walked for a while, observing the strange people and wares. It was peaceful, for all it was noisy, and the memories stay vividly in my head. We tried a sweet and sticky orange fruit that was unfamiliar to us both, and which was very messy to eat. There was an entertainer in the marketplace, with a monkey on a chain. It took a liking to me for some reason, and climbed right up to my head to use me as a lookout point. I have not seen Marian laugh like that in weeks, and I slipped the creature a gold coin in gratitude, despite the scratches of its claws. Then I saw a most interesting shop full of tooled leather clothing – but the Sheriff sent a boy to fetch us then, and we had to board ship. 

Perhaps we will stop there again on the return journey. Things will be so different that I cannot envision it.

\---

13th September, in this the year of our Lord 1193  
Acre, in the Holy Land

Dear Diary,

I do not know what to do. Marian has said – she promises that if I kill the Sheriff and save the King, she will be mine – willingly. Willingly.

I do not know what to do. I do not trust her, but can I trust the Sheriff? Where should my loyalty lie? Perhaps I am a fool, but I believe that she means her promise this time: after all, she thinks that Hood is dead. 

But we have learnt tonight that he is very much alive – and in Acre! Always he undermines our plans. The Sheriff has found a solution: when our conspirators take the message to the King that will draw him out to meet with 'Saladin', they will also warn him that Hood is there as an assassin. That way, we will get the King himself to kill Hood. Then 'Saladin' will kill him, and Prince John will be king.

And I could stop it all. If I were to choose Marian, if I were to kill the Sheriff, the plan would fall to pieces. Our conspirators would melt back into the desert, Marian would vouch for me with the King, and he would reward me with power.

Except she would not stand with me, would she? Not when she finds out that Hood is still alive. I see clearly now: so long as Hood lives, Marian will never be mine. She may not be his, either, but she will never give in to me. The only way to win is to kill him, or to take her is by force. I have been unable to do the former, so I will have to do the latter.

Once she is mine, she will learn to love me. She has always been good at making the best of things, and I know she believes there is good in me. It will be enough. Prince John will reward me with power and wealth, I will have demonstrated my loyalty to the Sheriff beyond all question, and Marian will be mine. And we will be happy.

There is no other choice.

\---

14th September, in this the year of our Lord 1193

What have I done?

I did not mean to – but the King was down, wounded but not yet killed, and she was in my way and there was no time, and then she began to say such things—

I just wanted her to stop. I wanted her to stop saying that she loved HIM, that she was going to marry HIM and not me. Not me. Never me.

I swear I did not mean to—

One moment the sword was in my hand and then—

I just wanted her to

I cannot

Marian


End file.
